


Duty To Save

by twilightHDfan



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Near Death, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-20
Updated: 2012-05-20
Packaged: 2017-11-05 16:32:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/408574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twilightHDfan/pseuds/twilightHDfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin wakes from Morgana's spell</p>
            </blockquote>





	Duty To Save

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A duty to obey](https://archiveofourown.org/works/351942) by [Trojie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trojie/pseuds/Trojie). 



> Story based on Trojie's Fic A Duty To Obey, which I read after reading jelazakazone's remix of it which is called Die Happy. Which, OMG, go read both (although read the warnings!). After reading Trojie's I couldn't resist continuing the story (with her permission!).

Merlin wakes slowly, as if from a dream, his head feeling foggy as he watches people move around him. It’s like a dream, the people moving almost a fraction too slow, or maybe Merlin is moving a fraction too fast.

The last thing he really remembers is Morgana and her cruel taunts. The rest is just … a haze. It isn’t until he sees Gwen’s wrecked face that everything clicks into focus.

He’s on the floor, pants and shirt on, but covered in something, his hands covered in something, and there’s a dagger on the floor beside him.

“Merlin,” Gwen whispers, her eyes wide, disbelief and horror on her face.

Looking at his hands, he feels his heart race as he takes in the red colour, almost Pendragon red. He takes in the way it coats his hands, coats his clothes, seeping into every part of him. He looks down at the dagger and realises it’s covered in blood as well, like it had been just pulled from something or someone.

That's when it all comes rushing back; Morgana’s spell, her words, his return to Camelot and his seduction of Arthur.

_Arthur._

It’s then he realises where he is. In Arthur’s chambers, next to Arthur’s bed.

He looks back up at Gwen, chest feeling tight, breaths coming in sharp pants as his heart continues to race. No, no, no, no. He wouldn’t, he didn’t, he can’t have. Scrambling towards the bed, he hears a shout, but he ignores it as he pulls himself up on his knees.

The first thing he notices is the blood. How red it is, the way it oozes out and seems to be soaked up by everything. Then he notices the wounds, two of them; a small one on the neck and a deeper one to the chest, before he notices Arthur; how pale the King looks, the way his face seems to be peaceful, as if he’s just sleeping.

But Merlin knows that he isn’t that he’s close to, if not, dead. And it’s all his fault.

“Arthur,” he whispers, reaching a hand out, only to stop when he feels a sharp poke at his neck.

“Stand back, Merlin.”

The voice wavers, as if the owner is conflicted, like he’s not sure what’s going on, but he’ll do his duty. Letting his eyes follow the sword from his neck up to the knight holding it, Merlin isn’t surprised to see Gwaine’s glassy eyes, the confusion and betrayal and sorrow clear to see on the man’s face.

“I can help him,” Merlin replies, begging Gwaine to understand.

“Stand back, Merlin,” Gwaine says again, this time his voice is stronger, the sword digging more into his neck.

“Please, Gwaine,” Merlin answers, feeling tears start to fall from his eyes. “I can help him.”

Before Gwaine can respond, Gaius runs in, eyes wide in horror as he takes in the tableau.

“What on earth has happened?” he asks, rushing to the bed, checking on Arthur.

“Gaius?” Merlin asks, knowing the old man will know what he needs to know.

“He’s alive, just barely,” Gaius replies, already pulling things from his bag and setting to work.

“I can help him,” Merlin says, looking at Gaius, needing the old man to let him. Gaius stares at him for a long moment, blue eyes staring deep into Merlin’s, before he looks at Gwaine.

“I need his help,” the Physician says.

“How do we know you’re not in on it with him?” Gwaine asks, Merlin watching in horror as Leon pulls his sword and holds it towards Gaius.

“We can save the King,” Gaius continues. “And I don’t have time to prove my loyalty. Arthur only has minutes. And Merlin can save him.”

“Merlin tried to kill him,” Leon answers, teeth obviously gritted, hand gripping the sword harder, betrayal clear to see in his eyes.

“And now he will save him, but not unless you let him. Choose wisely gentleman, you hold the King’s life in your hands.”

Leon glances at Gwaine, the two having a silent conversation with their eyes, before Gwaine pulls his sword back a fraction.

“If he dies so do you,” Gwaine says, one tear falling down his face, Merlin watching as it trails down his cheek before dropping off his chin.

“Merlin,” Gaius says sharply, Merlin quickly moving so his hands are over the wounds. He knows there is only one spell that will come close to healing Arthur before his death, a spell he has only used once before.

_Ic þe þurhhæle þin licsare mid þam sundorcræftas þære ealdaþ æ!_

He can feel Kilgarrah in the back of his mind, asking what he’s doing, before the dragon picks up on what it is. He feels the magic flow through him, down his arms and over Arthur as he repeats the chant over and over in the dragon language. He can hear shouting in the background again, but he doesn’t care what’s happening, as long as he can heal his King.

He opens his eyes, not realising he’d closed them until that moment, and can’t help but feel his heart sink. It’s not working, the wounds are still the same, and the blood is stopping, but not because they’re healing. Tears stream down his face, as pain rips through his chest, the thought of Arthur dying making him feel hollow inside. He has a feeling that Gwaine won’t have to kill him if Arthur dies.

He focuses even more on the wounds, continuing the chant, willing his magic down his arms and to heal the wound. He can hear gasps now, the shouting having stopped, but he doesn’t care, only focused on one thing.

It seems an age before the wounds start to heal, slowly knitting back together, Merlin not letting his focus go until the wounds are completely gone. He can still feel the tears running down his face, and his nose, his head light, feeling foggy again.

Reaching up a hand he wipes them away, looking at his hand in shock when he sees fresh blood on it, wondering briefly where it's come from.

“Merlin!”

The shout follows him into the darkness.


End file.
